


across universes but under the same sky

by anthropologicalhands



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Era, F/M, Tumblr: sasusakumonth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 14:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthropologicalhands/pseuds/anthropologicalhands
Summary: A collection of fics for SSM15-16. Chapter one: Sasuke finds himself giving love advice to the most unlikely person. RtN AU





	1. matchmaker, matchmaker…how did you get the girl?

**Author's Note:**

> ssmonth15 prompt: matchmaker

“What happened to your arm?”

Sasuke looked down at his double, with his flashy clothes and stupid smile, even while he lay bleeding out on the ground, and wondered what universe could have possibly turned him into this. The Sharingan told him nothing about this other Sasuke, apart from the fact he was completely drained of chakra.

It was the  _other_  Sakura who came with him, who beseeched Sakura for her help, that he learned that his double’s presence here was an unintended result of some mission gone terribly terribly wrong.

“A fight with Naruto,” answered Sasuke, watching the disconcerting sight of two Sakuras kneeling over this Sasuke, palms glowing green.

The other Sasuke’s brow furrowed. “Who is Naruto?” he asked, with great effort.

“He means Menma,” said his Sakura, her voice too high. “They are from a different world and in that world, Naruto’s parents called him Menma.”

The other Sakura glanced upwards briefly at their exchange. The other Sakura had few differences with  _his_  Sakura, though she seemed much calmer as she healed the broken body of, well,  _him_. His Sakura couldn’t stop from casting little anxious glances at him, glances that the other Sasuke quickly picked up on.

“Hello, other Sakura,” he said, mustering what should have been a carefree smile, had it not been twisted in pain. “It is good to see you again!”

“Hello, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura returned, her voice pitched a little higher than usual. “Don’t move, please. Keep holding still.”

Sasuke watched as his other self laughed; a laugh that, even half choked with blood as it was, was far lighter than any sound he could imagine himself making.

“For you, Sakura, anything.”

“No talking,” snapped the other Sakura. “Didn’t you hear her? You’re  _dying_. And  _you_ ,” she bit out, her gaze snapping towards Sasuke. “Stop looming and give us some space.”

Blinking, Sasuke obeyed, backing out of their space. Instead, he hunkered down under the shade of one of the trees ringing the clearing, and waited.

–

Hours later, his other self was stable and unconscious. The other Sakura stripped off her gloves and turned to face them, wan and pale and very determined.

“Thank you,” she said to his Sakura. Her tone was measured and her voice did not tremble, though Sasuke could see that it cost her effort to maintain such a calm demeanor. “If ever I needed another me, this was it.”

“It was nothing,” said Sakura. She also looked shaken, and her eyes kept moving between Sasuke and his double, laid out on Sakura’s cloak. “He’ll be all right. You could have healed him on your own.”

The other Sakura shook her head, another efficient motion. “It was  _not_  nothing. He would have been dead without your help. And neither of us know how to get back home.”

“You don’t remember? From, ah…the last time we switched places?”

The other Sakura shook her head. “Do you?”

Sakura mirrored the motion, the ends of her hair fluttering softly in front of her face. “I don’t know how it was done, exactly. But, perhaps, if you tell us how you got here, we might figure out how our experiences could be reversed.”

The other Sakura nodded, and even gave a tiny smile.

“That would be acceptable,” she said.

Their discussion turned to the sort of technical jargon that Sasuke could not follow, and he decided it would be best to retreat back to where his other self lay, still unconscious.

It was, if possible, even stranger looking at him now that he is peacefully sleeping than when he was bleeding out in front of Sasuke’s eyes. Sasuke doubted he himself has ever looked so calm.

This version of him, though the same age, seemed softer. His body was not as scarred, the muscle definition different.

“Sasuke-kun?”

He looked up;  _his_  Sakura had broken away from her conference with the other Sakura. The other was on the far edge of the clearing, kneeling and searching through the bag she had been wearing when they had fallen through.

“Sasuke-kun, this is going to take a while. I don’t think we will be able to make it to the mountains before tonight,” she says, apologetic.

Sasuke nodded, because unspoken went the obvious: they would not abandon their other selves.

“Should we bring them back to the village?” he asked. “Consult with Kakashi?”

Sakura shook her head. “I don’t know. Honestly the best thing to do is stay put here. The…other you can’t be moved that much right now. Besides, I was speaking with her, and we are both starting to remember something of our travels in the past. We should be able to fix this together.”

He didn’t doubt it: one Sakura was formidable enough. Two should not have too much trouble against an unknown jutsu.

“Let me know if I can help,” he said, though what did he know of alternate worlds?

Sakura seemed to have the same thought.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Sasuke-kun,” she said. “But I will let you know.”

Sasuke waited, but she seemed to have nothing more to say. She was just standing there, looking from him to his sleeping double.

Abruptly, she reached out and enveloped him in a fierce, tight hug. Awkwardly, he tried to reciprocate—which was difficult, as she had pinned his arm down and he still lacked the other.

She held him like that for a long moment. Then, she took a deep, shuddering breath and released him.

“Sorry,” she muttered, rubbing hard at her eyes. “I mean, he’s not you, but he’s still—he almost died.”

He cupped her cheek, to show that it was not the case and also that he understood. He might have leant forward for a kiss under different circumstances, but he could see the other Sakura approaching over her shoulder, and let his hand fall back to his side.

“Shall we start?” asked the other Sakura, looking between them.

Sakura straightened up and moved away from him, smiling at her double.

“Of course,” she said. “Let’s get you home.”

–

Sakura, Sasuke thought, was meeting her double with considerably more grace than Sasuke had met his. It helped that her counterpart seemed to have more in common with her. They were conferring together in lowered voices, trying to figure out how to return the other Sakura and…Sasuke to their proper world.

Meanwhile, he was stuck on babysitting duty.

It wasn’t illogical. He knew the signs of his own body well enough to detect if anything looked wrong and he would be absolutely useless in figuring out the physics of another world.

But his other self was a real piece of work. His first words upon waking were:

“You are a  _mess_ , aren’t you?”

Sasuke looked down at his other self, stretched out on his back in the clearing, his head pillowed on Sakura’s (the  _other_  Sakura’s) cloak, his torso still heavily bandaged.

“I am not the one who nearly bled to death coming through another dimension.”

The other Sasuke gave him a considering look. “But that’s not what I meant. Your eyes don’t match. And you have no fashion sense at all. Is it because you’re travelling all the time? Why would you do that? Why not stay in the village?”

“My path has taken many different turns from yours.” said Sasuke curtly, ignoring the comment about his clothing.

“Sakura didn’t say much about you apart from the fact that you weren’t in the village when she crossed over, that first time. It’s nice to finally meet my other self.”

Sasuke only gave a tight nod, uncertain if he could return the sentiment.

–

Idiot that he was, his other self was nevertheless very perceptive.

“So…in this world, we got together with Sakura?”

_Not we_ , Sasuke thought to himself, more than a little spiteful.  _We are not the same person. Sakura would never fall in love with an idiot like you_.

Unfortunately, this other self of his (who dressed flashily, talked absurdly, and still had both of his arms) was undeterred by his silence. He who had none of the baggage of defection, of following so many wrong paths. He who, according to  _his_  Sakura, with a bitter twist of her lips, apparently gave away his affection freely and fecklessly, like party favors.

It turned out; there was a reason behind her distaste for roses.

Some Uchiha this boy was.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” The other Sasuke was amused. He raised himself up on his side, chin propped up by his hand. He looked over to the two Sakuras, kneeling down with a blank scroll rolled out in front of them, making annotations. One of them (the one that wasn’t his and  _definitely_  was not his other self’s) up and over at them, her gaze sharp and unsmiling. The other Sasuke gave a lazy wave in answer. She huffed, her lips thinning out, and returned to her work.

His other self watched her, and heaved a world-weary sigh.

“See, my Sakura-chan doesn’t love me,” he said, looking back at Sasuke, his expression almost comically wounded. “It’s a little disappointing, especially considering how much cooler I am than you.”

Were it not for the fact that slapping him would undo some major healing and invoke the wrath of not one but  _two_  mednins upon him, Sasuke would have given in to the impulse. As it was, all he did was take a deep, calming breath, three counts in, six counts out, and resume his mapping.

He turned to scowl up at Sasuke.

“What did you do to make Sakura-chan fall in love with  _you_?”

Sasuke paused to level a blistering glare.

“To  _start_ with, I never called her Sakura-chan,” he bit out.

His other self looked baffled. “But how else do I tell her she’s special to me?”

“Try honesty.”

“I am honest,” he insisted, affronted. “There is nothing but truth in my affections for Sakura-chan.”

“Then I can’t help you.” He returned to his map, debating on whether or not to report this incident in full to Kakashi when the time came to send in a report. It was turning into something, he reflected, a little too bizarre.

When his double did not respond with a smartass comment in kind, he looked up.

What he saw made him drop his pen.

His double looked at Sakura, his own Sakura, with a longing that Sasuke was startled to recognize—the first sign that they held anything in common, outside the physical.

He wondered if the look on his face had ever been so plain with it; with the desire to hold Sakura, not only to have her, but to be  _hers_.

But even there, he could see the difference. The other Sasuke’s expression was mixed with uncertainty, whereas Sasuke had always known he had been first in Sakura’s heart.

This Sasuke had no such solace.

That, he supposed, was where they truly differed.

He felt a twinge of unwanted pity for this double. Or perhaps just the idea that there really existed a universe where Sakura did not love him was really too much to bear.

Charasuke was his opposite in almost every way that mattered—but in this, Sasuke thought he might know the best way to get through to him.

“You are not honest with her.”

Predictably, Charasuke bristled. “I have always been honest—”

“And yet you seek the attention of other women?” Sasuke cut in. “No. That is not honest. If she really is the only woman in your heart, then make it clear she is the only woman you want by your side.”

Chagrinned, Charasuke looked away, his eyes settling again on the back of the Sakura of his world. Sasuke watched his jaw tightened.

“How did you do it?” he asked eyes still on his own Sakura. “How did she fall in love with you?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Sasuke replied. “In fact, I did many things that should have ended her feelings for me. Things I regretted even as I did them.”

“But her feelings didn’t stop?” persisted his other self. “Right?”

“Does the fact that she spurns your advances stop your feelings?” he returned.

The other Sasuke shook his head. “She has not spurned my feelings.”

“Oh?”

“No, I’ve asked. She just tells me to stop playing around.”

That…was actually a better situation than Sasuke initially thought, considering the other Sakura’s harshness when she spoke to his counterpart.

Though, to be fair, he had been bleeding out at the time, so it was more likely anger born from worry than anything else.

“I don’t blame her,” said Sasuke. “You  _are_  playing around.”

His double bristled at him. Good.

“Not about  _everything_ ,” said the other Sasuke heatedly. “Sakura-chan knows she would be special to me no matter what! She is  _nakama_.”

Also a reason why she wasn’t responding to his advances, thought Sasuke, though voicing it aloud would not help anyone.

“Have you said those exact words to her?” he asked instead.

“…No?”

“Then do so. And thank her for saving your life, while you are at it.”

His other self snorted. “Of  _course_  I will. Just how poorly do you think of me?”

Sasuke only shook his head. “Stop your flirting. Try honesty.”

For the longest time, he felt that it was all he had to offer her.

Maybe it would work for this idiot.

Hopefully.

His double considered for a moment, and gave a firm nod. “I’ll try it,” he said, smiling slightly. “Thank you, my other self.”

Sasuke just grunted, not quite trusting himself with a suitable reply.

His double laughed again. He leaned back, and carefully folded his arms behind his head

“If we were only going to have one thing in common, Other Me, I’m glad it’s the girl we love.”

“Hn.”

_So am I._


	2. unleashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what comes out when everyone is in disguise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ssmonth15 prompt: carnival

A city of masks is a peculiar place, and never so much as at  _carnival_.

It is a time for love and frivolity and excess, the world dizzying in its colors.

Her mask is delicate tonight. In years past she has been terrifying—a snarling cat, a devil and a witch. Once, she even went as a long-defunct Plague Doctor. But tonight she aims for lightness, to be pretty. She is a personification of spring, and the perfume of the very real flowers that trail from her dress and hair and decorate the edges of her mask are a welcome protection against the odor of hundreds of bodies clamoring together.

Her evening began together with friends, but they have long since been spun away, either discovered by familiar lovers or on the hunt for something new. She does not worry for them—she knows the men by their gaits and voices and the hold their hands take. They are all safe for the night.

Which means that she is now free to pursue her own interests, for Sakura is not a lone figure amongst a crowd of lovers.

Hers simply takes a little more effort to find.

Of course, he might object to such a description, as he is directing her towards him. Her skin prickles with the feel of his search, of phantom eyes and fingers parting the crowd, searching for her to lure her towards him.

Though he resides in the city, her lover is kept apart from the day-to-day life of the city proper, a secret to be kept upon pain of death. Carnival is the only time he is allowed to walk the streets as one of them.

She wonders what mask he will wear this year. Years past, he has been a dragon, an eagle, a cobra with a hood of violet silk. When they were younger, even before he was banished for ill use of his abilities, his disguises were wrathful creations.

After he returned and matured and found a role within the city that suited him, the resulting disguises tempered, though they never grew more predictable.

She moves through the crowd as easily as if the streets were empty, dipping and spinning about them. Her skirts, blush pink and lighter than anything she wears on ordinary days, swirl about her person as she follows the feel of his aura, the power that makes him so valuable as the duke’s best spy and assassin. His family arts are a mystery to all, and while rumors abound of his deeds and his existence, no one knows his name or his face.

She follows the feel of him towards the great tree that grows in the center of the main gardens, roped off on this night as a sacred place, soaking up the release of humanity and all its joys and fears and rages.

Sasuke, it appears, has no compunctions entering a sacred space during this time. Frankly, neither does Sakura.

She climbs over the rope and heads towards the tree, nearly as tall as the main clock tower. She can feel the pulse of life within it, can almost taste it on her tongue.

As she approaches, she can see a figure, outlined by the lights of the city, and her heartbeat quickens.

Then the figure moves, steps out of the shadows of the trunk and into the light of the lamps and the stars.

She stares for a moment, the sight taking her breath away, before a gasp of laughter, bell-like, escapes her.

“Is there something the matter with how I’m dressed?” he asks, his voice rasping but wry, amused by her delight.

“Nothing,” she says, as he approaches her, reaches out and his hands cradle her elbows, as she goes up on tiptoe to receive his kiss. He looks very handsome tonight, in black and maroon and an ivory vest tapering his waist. “You look very handsome. But, ah, aren’t you missing something?”

He is always a vision to her, and remarkably, on this night of deception and trickery and indulgence, her lover has chosen to go barefaced.

He smirks at her, lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. “I could not find anything to my taste this year. I did not wish to embarrass you.”

He bends down for another kiss, which she accepts with great warmth.

“Besides,” he adds thoughtfully. “If you think about it, no one knows my face. This is a better disguise for me than any of those monstrosities sold by the river.”

“That may be so,” says Sakura primly, taking the arm he offers. “But Naruto will have your head—he loves seeing how people choose to present themselves.”

“All the better to upend his expectations.”

Sakura looks up at him, eyebrows raised behind her mask, and then back to the path they are making their way down. “As long as you don’t mind him challenging you to a mock duel.”

He laughs, teeth flashing. “He wouldn’t dare. He doesn’t draw attention to me outside of the palace. Part of the agreement. Besides, I can always tell him that it interferes with my true disguise.”

“And what might that be?” asks Sakura, playing along.

She stops when he stops walking. With permission, he reaches out and plucks a few wilting blossoms from the fluttering ends of her ribbons, and tucks them in his buttonhole.

“Tonight,” he says, his manner grandiose. “I go as Spring’s Lover. Her naïve mortal lover entering her world of magic and celebration and lust. Following her every whim.”

Sakura laughs, because how can she not? Then she reaches up and gently tugs him down by the collar to press her mouth to his, pouring a taste of  _her_  magic into him, not quite life in much the same way as his is not quite death.

When they part, his face is flushed and the look in his eyes anything but collected—even if there was anyone in the city who might have seen his face before, they might not recognize him now.

“And so it shall be.” she breathes, with the tiniest thrill down her spine, as she takes his hand and leads him towards the sparking,  _living_ crowd. “Come along, Lover. Let us have our night together.”


	3. playground chatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there is a special test the academy girls have set for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ssmonth15 prompt: test

There is a test among the little girls in the Academy, training to be kunoichi. It is not written or physical, or any of those little dares the children like to practice throughout Konoha, dreaming of the day they will join the corps with their parents.

No, this is a test of  _character_.

Which boy do you like?

And why?

Is he really smart? Is he nice? Is he funny?

Most of the girls do not especially like anyone themselves, but it is a fun game, and amusing to pick a boy and explain why he was chosen, and maybe find out someone of what it says about you.

Shino Aburame is a pass, even though the girls know that he is going to keep bugs inside him like a living container, because he is cute under his hood and glasses, and any girl who likes him, bugs and all, must be  _very_ brave.

And that Naruto boy is a not pass, not just because he’s loud and goofs off, but there is something about him that makes the parents nervous, makes them pull their girls away quickly when they see him lingering around the playground.

The system is fluid and ever changing, each girl arguing her point for her chosen boy with spirited vehemence, enjoying the game.

However, one boy remains a clear pass: Sasuke Uchiha.

That is never a question, from the time Ino Yamanaka, top student, declares that she likes him. Everything about him is  _perfect_. A clan name their parents don’t speak but  _whisper_ , like a secret. He has the best grades of the class, a little shy but cute when he smiles, though he doesn’t do that so much anymore. But that doesn’t matter, because it makes him look  _so cool_.

Other girls start to choose him too, because he is the obvious choice. The  _safe_ choice. They lose interest in the game, and move on.

Still, on the day when Sakura Haruno, Ino’s new best friend, comes running up to them with flushed pink cheeks and so much energy she can barely contain it, they listen.

“I found someone I really like!” she says, eyes gleaming spring-bright in the sun. “Wanna know who it is?”

“Tell us all about it,” says one.

“Please don’t say Sasuke-kun,” huffs another, and by the way Sakura’s face falls, the identity of her crush is clear.

“Huh? How did you know?” she asks, disappointed that her secret was so quickly divined.

They tell her of course, Sasuke-kun is very popular, didn’t you know?  _Everybody_ likes him. He’s the  _right_  boy to like.

Bewildered, Sakura only shakes her head at their explanation.

You  _didn’t know?_  They press. So why do you like him?

She thinks of Sasuke and she feels her cheeks grow warm, but beyond that feeling she does not grasp the significance they place upon him.

“Because he’s  _Sasuke-kun_ ,” she says, her voice soft. “That’s why I like him.”

They nod in approval, but do not recognize that her answer does not match theirs.


	4. no surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it would be the simple path, to give up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ssmonth15 prompt: white flag

_It would be so easy_ , says those who do not understand,  _to give up on him_. To look at what he has done, declare him a monster, and say:  _no more for me_. To decide from this day forth that he is not worthy of love, of care, of anything other than a death sentence.

Except—

Love isn’t a choice.

Sakura never asked to fall in love; she just  _is_. Has been since she was twelve years old. Love has grown into her; as much a part of the fabric of her as her identity as being Ino’s friend or a kunoichi of Konoha.

Love does not make her worthless as a fighter. Inexperience is what originally hindered her effectiveness; not letting herself take action. Love is what helped her overcome these obstacles, fed her drive to work harder, to bloody her knuckles, to get better  _faster_.

Love for her village, for the people who make their lives there, for her family and friends: these forces are what make her blows powerful. What have turned her into the strongest woman in the world.

So why would the love she nurses for this one boy be any different? She cannot ignore her love when she makes her choices—to do so will only lead to disaster.

Wouldn’t it be wiser, after all, to still see herself clearly and recognize the conflict between her  _want_  and her  _need_ , than to nurse a delusion that  _he doesn’t matter_.

Because he does. He will.

She cannot surrender; she refuses to give up on the forces that drive her.

She will not, no matter what others say,  _stop her heart_.


	5. into the dead river

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an abhorsen au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ssmonth16 prompt: necromancy

The trouble with the Undead was determining the extent to which death had changed them. Years ago, Sasuke had walked into Death and not returned. Most considered him lost for good, and spoke his name only as a warning to their pupils against the arrogance of the talented and hungry.

Sakura was not one of them. As Abhorsen, she understood the dead the most intimately out of all of them. She knew what made a lost soul, and in fact had Sasuke to thank for her conviction. They had often spoke at length on the subject, both at their initial meeting and after, when it was simply a part of the fabric of their lives. It was business, pillow talk and dinner conversation during the precious pockets of time they had together. When she wasn’t studying the fine limits of the Charter and his services weren’t held by the Crown. As a member of an infamous family of necromancers, Sasuke also held an uncanny understanding of the dead. Without the reins of the Charter that held Sakura back, she might almost say that his understanding eclipsed her own, though not his restraint.

Sasuke was not behaving as either the properly dead or as one who  _should_  be properly dead. Instead, she considered him in flux, and until he was fit to bring back to life could make himself useful by providing invaluable reconnaissance on any undead creatures threatening to trespass beyond the Gates.

Sakura's conviction was not grief –she had grieved long and hard when her family passed through the Gates before she was ready, when others in the Clayr gained the sight before she did, and when it became apparent a far more somber destiny awaited her.

No, this was not grief.

* * *

Every few months, on the night of new moon, Sakura would lock herself away in whatever quarters she currently held to await his sendings. These silvery projections would speak to her of Free Magic creatures across the border, or political rivals making deals with other sorcerers, or that Orochimaru had slipped through two gates and awaited at the mouth of the Seventh, to prey on arrogant necromancers that might extend their reach.

Very rarely, when there was a problem beyond what either of them could handle on their own, he asked for her to meet him.

Each time, Naruto warned her that Sasuke would not be the same. A Free Magic creature by nature, though bound in the form of a fox, his word in this matter, she knew, was to be trusted.

“The Gates change you,” he warned, his nose twitching, sitting in the middle of her rung as he watched her move about her study. She stepped around him, fastening a thick green tunic with a high collar and long sleeves and slipping vials of powders into her pockets; mixtures that would created smoke, induced rage, or a conflagration should she need a quick escape.

“Of course they do,” said Sakura, as she slung the bandolier of bells over her tunic, adjusting it to fit snugly across her chest. One to send the auditor to sleep. One to bring the dead to life. One to send both auditor and ringer straight past the Ninth Gate.

Sakura loved the man she was to meet, but she would not go unarmed.

Naruto's ears flickered, but he said no more. When she sat in her armchair, he jumped into her lap and curled up close so that she recognized his support. Sakura gave in and tickled him under the chin, careful not to touch the band of silk around his neck, with its silver bell. The collar around his neck glimmered with Charter marks when he moved. Breaking them would unleash his true form, that of a great Beings from the beginning of time. One that had been neutral in the fight between humanity and Free Magic. When humanity won, he had rebelled, and was appropriately bound.

Such Marks were expected to keep his true nature sealed away forever. 

Already, Sakura had witnessed its full power twice. Had been the one, in fact, to unleash it.

Let the council dismiss their sorcerers’ warnings as insubstantial—Sakura knew better.

It was a changing world. A world like that needed Naruto’s full power, as they needed the unusual power of Sakura’s. As they would need Sasuke, though he passed from Life to Death years before.

She left Naruto with a sending of paper to feed him and a routine request to keep watch for unusual activity.

“Please be careful,” he called after her, standing in the curving doorway. His brilliant orange fur was the only spot of color against the white of winter. Sakura only paused to wave at him, before turning and continuing down the forest path.

* * *

Along the way, she stopped at her usual touchstones.

Kakashi, her old teacher, and the man who introduced them. Sakura to Sasuke, so that the fledgling Abhorsen could gain an understanding of the kind of people who she would fight with. Sasuke to Sakura, in hopes to demystify death and curb his fascination with death and the circumstances around the disappearance of his family.

Both objectives failed, but Sakura was no less grateful to him for them.

She came with medicine and a package of cured meats, and asked if he knew the way to the Charter Stone the sending had placed in her mind’s eye.

“He won’t be the boy you fell in love with,” Kakashi murmured, eyes filmy as he handed her a map, her route marked in red.

“Why would he be?” replied Sakura.

Next was Tsunade. A Clayr made unusual in her choice to leave the glacier, Sakura called on her as affectionately as a daughter, to take tea and to ask after her visions.

“Nothing more ominous than usual,” said Tsunade, her golden eyes still as sharp as they had been when Sakura was a girl. “Must you go to see him?”

“He asked for me to come,” Sakura replied, her own expression equally composed. “His concerns are similar to the reports I have heard from the rangers near the border. This is a monster I do not know; it would be foolish not to learn more before trapping it.”

Tsunade gave a slight nod, and sipped her tea. The house she kept was carved of dark wood and filled with beautiful, earthly things, and silent as a grave.

“You’ve walked in Death more than any other Abhorsen in the last hundred years,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder if you respond to these sendings as a test of your willpower, not the good of the realm.”

“Sasuke’s information does the kingdom a great deal of good,” replied Sakura, but she did not contest Tsunade’s assessment. She slept curled up in Tsunade’s spare bedroom that night and headed out before the sun broke over the horizon the following morning.

All three of them were right in their own ways, each firm in their convictions. As Sakura was in hers.

She moved onwards.

–

No matter what time of day she passed into Death, it was always night in that realm. This did not suit Sakura – unlike most Abhorsens, she was of a lighter coloring; her pink hair and green eyes made her an easy target in darkness. This fact had been much remarked upon when she first began her training, and she disliked its reminders.

She passed through the First Gate without consequence, though her insides tightened as they always did when she left Life behind, feeling the waters she moved in trying to drain her of her essence, to pull her down and sweep her into the beyond. As a rule, ordinary humans were lost after the Fourth Gate. As Abhorsen, so long as she did not allow herself to be swept out beyond the Seventh, she could return.

Of course, there was always the possibility that some other creature, older and more powerful than even she might know could drag her straight through to the Ninth.

There was always the danger that someone who knew her intimately could do the same.

She paused at the Third Gate. From the pockets of her tunic she removed a shining paper, and folded it into a little boat. She bit her thumb so that blood welled, and pressed it to the boat’s bow for direction. This she placed into the waters and watched as it sailed through the gates.

Only a guide untainted by Free Magic could either see or respond to the summonses – she did not need such summons to bring Sasuke to her, but caution, this time, had won. 

It seemed only moments after the boat vanished beyond her sights that a familiar figure materialized in the mists. Sakura felt a smile tug up the corners of her mouth, a small happiness well up inside her despite her reservations. Despite living in a realm where time meant nothing and hours could pass as minutes, Sasuke never kept her waiting.

His outline sharpened into something more tangible as he drew closer. More details became discernible – the heavy sword strapped to his hip, still shining with Charter marks, and his armguards bound with cords. 

Finally, she could see the fine features of his face, the pallor close to any undead creature, but his dark eyes piercing and reassuringly human, at least at first glance.

Sakura did not run to him, as she would have liked. She did nothing but keep her breathing even, her back strong as an Abhorsen’s should be. He approached slowly, fighting the currents with every step. His will had always been as strong as hers – except where she held back from forging towards Death, his was returning to Life.

His steps were slow and heavy, the waters sucking at his feet. Still he moved forward, until he was close enough to touch. The Charter Mark on his forehead glowed with white light.

Sakura was the first to reach out, her thumb pressing against that Mark, as he copied the gesture with her. She was plunged into the familiar swirl of the Charter, brilliant and uncorrupted within him, and she could have sobbed.

“It’s you,” she said, unable to hold back her smile, a smile he easily returned.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It’s me.”

His hand moved from her Mark to caress her cheek, but she drew away, almost stumbling to put even a step between them. She believed him to be unchanged, but she wanted him so badly that it would be pure folly to leave her guard down.

He let his hand drop, grimacing, but not angry. Still, shame pierced her at the look.

“It’s good to see you in the flesh,” he said, his voice deeper and more resonance than that of his sendings. More longing, that gratified her, but also a more unearthly reverberation, which did not.

“And I you.” 

But what state was the flesh? Wherever she looked, she saw signs that distressed her. He was thinner – seemed to grow thinner every year, though food was not sustenance here. His clothes were torn from fights with Free Magic creatures. She could see the burns on his skin, and the bloodless gashes their claws had opened. Everything was in stasis here; when she brought him back to Life again, those wounds would weep blood, and without care he could easily slip back into Death.

The sendings never showed these wounds. They never showed the Charter, or the exhaustion in his eyes, or how easily he forgot the rules right next to her. These were things she always had to be sure she saw for herself. This was why she traversed Death so often, risking the undertow of the waters and the nearness of him. 

She would make sure there was something left to bring back.

 


	6. flashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who is the knife for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ssmonth16 prompt: old habits die hard

On their third mission as a couple, Sakura wakes up to see Sasuke gripping a knife in his hand.

This does not frighten Sakura particularly, though the most conscious part of her mind notes that it is probably unusual that it doesn’t. The war sometimes still feels fresh, like she still needs to be ready for a fight.

Half-sleepily, she pokes Sasuke awake. He swims to consciousness with a low grunt, blinking at her, his eyes still hazy with sleep.

It was funny, she thinks with amusement, that for someone who was holding a knife so tightly, that he seemed so unguarded when he awoke next to her.

“Sakura?” he murmurs, voice still heavy with sleep. Sakura lets herself savor how he says her name, how her heartbreat quickens and every inch of her buzzes with awareness.

“Good morning,” she whispers. “I have a question for you.”

“Oh?” He arches an eyebrow at her, amused. It gratifies her to know that he likes her questions – as a fun way to pass the time and to fill in the gaps where they were not together.

She reaches over him and taps gently at his right wrist, sliding her hand so that it covers his. “Why is my knife in your hands, dearest?”

Sasuke looks, and his whole demeanor abruptly shifted. He sits up, pushing her away for the first time since the war.

“Shit,” he mutters, looking at the knife with narrowed eyes, then at her with guilt, which she wasn’t expecting. She had expected some rational explanation – that he heard something during the night –not enough to wake her, but enough that it would be good to keep something at the ready. But that does not seem to be the case.

He sighs, angry for reasons unfathomable to her. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Sakura withdraws from where she is pressed up against his side, feeling her insides go cold. One of the aspects of Sasuke that she has grown to love the most is his honesty with her. And he knows that.

“Why not?” She wants to be nonchalant, but she can’t hide the edge in her words.

Sasuke looks like he wants to tell her—she can see the shape of the words that he keeps clenched behind his teeth.

But instead, he pushes himself to his feet, one hand rubbing hard at his neck.

“I’ll be at the river,” he says shortly, pulling out a change of clothes from the sack by their pallet. He strides out of the cave, his back taut with a tension she had long thought dissolved.

Sakura sits for a minute, chewing her lip until she draws blood, before standing herself and moving to pack their things away. She does so mechanically, trying to even out her breathing, to curb the sudden hot anger coursing through her.

Sasuke is not gone long, but by the time he gets back, with two fish in hand for their breakfast, Sakura cannot even bring herself to chatter as she might normally do, especially on a morning like this, where she can see that the sky is blue even before she even steps outside of their shelter.

It’s not like he ever joins in, anyways.

She doesn’t even try to speak to him, just stalks past him for her own turn to freshen up for the morning.

She takes her time, lingering at the riverbank as she brushes her hair. It is more of a chore these days; it now reaches the middle of her back, longer than she has ever had it before. Sasuke seems to like it; she’s still finding her own opinion. She briefly entertains cutting it all off, close to the scalp, and imagining Sasuke’s reaction.

But the impulse vanishes as quickly as it came. Instead, Sakura settles for braiding it back as tightly as she can, so that when she flicks it over her shoulder, the weight is satisfyingly heavy.

When she returns to their camp, the anger has not yet passed, but she also is no longer ready to bite Sasuke’s head off without first hearing what he has to say for himself.

He is outside the cave when she returns, the fish grilling over a new fire. The lines of his body are still taut, but his face is softer. He looks up at her when she approaches and Sakura feels her mood ease a little at the sight – whatever is on his mind, he is planning on telling her.

She sits, with some distance between them, her hands in her lap, and waits. The fish smells wonderful – Sasuke has made good use of the garlic cloves she purchased from the last village, and she is nearly hungry enough to eat first, and listen later.

But first things first, Sasuke is ready to speak.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve woken up to see your knife,” he says, still looking away from her.

She holds herself perfectly still, the only movement she permits is the wind ruffling her hair.

“Usually I just put it back in the sheath, and put it back with your kit. But we had a long day yesterday, and, well, this time your aim was too good. I thought it would be better to hold onto it.”

Now he turns his head, and she can see what she did not see early this morning, first because he did not show her, and second because she did not look.

A clean cut on the side of his neck, far too close to the jugular for her comfort.

Sakura stiffens and looks away, studying the ground without seeing it.

“I attacked you.” She says it as a fact, not a question, even though it is one she can hardly believe.

“It wasn’t entirely random.” Sasuke’s voice is surprisingly gentle. “I reached over and surprised you.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she says, her mind racing. “I should have woken up. I haven’t done that in…in months.”

The war was unusual in so many ways. The sustained paranoia, the strain of being on edge against traitors or enemies who might pour into your tent in the night. Sakura knows many who had trouble adjusting to life after the war, to not always being on their guard.

For a long time, she had not counted herself among them.

“You did wake up,” says Sasuke. “Otherwise it would have been a bit more than a scratch.”

He means to make her smile, but she can’t.

Then:

“Sakura, look at me.”

When she still doesn’t look at him he moves closer, so that their knees brush. To prove he is unconcerned about sharing her space.

“You’ve been arming yourself in your sleep most nights since we’ve started sharing a pallet,” he says, his voice low. “This is the only time you ever tried to strike me, and you woke up the second I said your name.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demands, her voice harsh.

He shrugs. “It did not seem unreasonable. And I thought I could manage it.”

“You could have stopped me a little better,” says Sakura bitterly, but doesn’t lean away, her fingers reaching up to press against the red line. Sasuke tilts his head, exposing more of his neck for better access.

“It’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” He says as she sends a pulse of chakra through the wound, affirming that it is far too shallow for her to have done any true damage. She presses down to heal it, only to have Sasuke take her hand instead, interlacing their fingers.

“Leave it. It’ll heal on its own.”

“What are you doing?” She asks. He does not answer, intent on their joined hands. She let him play with her hand for a few moments, folding it and running his thumb over her knuckles, before removing it from his grasp. “Sasuke-kun, I could have killed you.”

The merest mirage of a smile at her affectionate name tilts his face into something warm. “You could have, but you didn’t. You stopped when I asked.” He hesitated, the smile-mirage flitting away. “Which is more than what I’ve done to you in the past.”

He is trying to make her feel better, she realizes, and her concern is promptly replaced by annoyance that he would do such a thing, bring up a topic that should be dead and buried.

“Sasuke-kun,  _please_. Enough self-flagellation; they aren’t the same.”

“As long as you recognize it,” Sasuke retorts, taking out the plates to serve out their fish.

At some point in the future, it is going to amuse her that Sasuke has enough self-awareness to use his own surliness as a bargaining chip against her guilt.

But not yet.


	7. the stubborn dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they won't leave him alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ssmonth16 prompt: slice of life

In the years he spends away from Konoha, first under Orochimaru’s tutelage and later under Madara’s, Sasuke dreams of what-could-bes. They are everything he does not allow to cross his mind during the day, but at night they play like an endless reel of film, the pictures faded and grown hazy with time but no less powerful.

Today, he should be triumphant from finally killing Danzo. Instead, he finds himself obsessing over the encounter with Team Seven, analyzing every moment ruthlessly for details he might have missed. This should have been a glory – instead, he is angrier than ever, and nothing seems to fit together as it should.

He does not fall asleep so much as collapse from pure exhaustion, and from this blankness the dream quietly unfolds.

There, it is late evening, and while his feelings of exhaustion have not dissipated, his thoughts are more lucid than anything he has in the real world. His dream self aches, and the gaps in his knowledge quietly fill in that Team Seven sparred today, his elbows braced against the counter of Ichiraku, as they talk while waiting for their dinner.

“You are both idiots,” he hears Sakura declare in response to Naruto, the toss of her head scornful. Here, their time as a unit means that he and Naruto are occasionally contemptible to her. But when he catches her eye, eyebrow raised with an unspoken question, she still gives him her special smile. He could reach further, “remember” what their argument is about, but for now he is happy to just listen.

“Please, Sakura-chan,” says Naruto, pained. “You sound like  _Ino_.”

“Well, you’re sounding more and more like  _Sasuke_ ,” she shoots back, and dream Sasuke is mildly offended, but he is still full of adrenaline from their fight, which ended not with his hands around Sakura’s neck but with her pinning him from behind, laughing as she knocks him into the dirt while Naruto cheered her on. His dream self did not seem to mind the loss.

The steam from his ramen beads his skin with moisture and the heat is nearly unbearable. Naruto, as always, doesn’t seem to notice, slurping the hot noodles with appreciation, nevermind that he is turning redder than a boiled lobster. Sakura’s sweat-slicked hair sticks up where she combed her fingers through it. She is eating with gusto and he can see the muscles in her forearms shifting as she manipulates her chopsticks. He wants to tell her she looks very pretty, but he thinks he’ll wait until later, after Naruto has gone home. He hopes Naruto doesn’t try to wink at them this time. She catches him staring, and pretends to glare, but still can’t stop her smile.

He wants badly to follow this dream out to its natural conclusion.

This could have been his life, if he had let it.

But the moment that thought crosses his mind, the dream dies. Naruto’s teeth grow pointed and Sakura’s eyes fill with tears and he remembers that he is not one of them anymore.

And nothing fills him with more rage than to remember that he has not stopped wanting it.

 


End file.
